


I'm Growing like the Quickening Hues

by mlbee



Series: Running Home to You [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Ace Spectrum Mikael, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bisexual Jonas, Character Study, M/M, Museum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 22:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlbee/pseuds/mlbee
Summary: Maybe this grey area wasn't both like so many other parts of his life. Maybe this was neither. And the more he thought about it, the more he accepted that this space--the space he occupied so much of his time--was a space of nothing. Filled with dreams he'd likely never achieve, filled with attraction he would never feel, filled with all the things that seemed an impossibility. Maybe that was why Mikael liked the grey area so much.Mikael must have been silent for long enough that Jonas was afraid he'd disappeared, or gone deaf, or had simply fallen asleep under the orange spring sun. His hazel eyes caught the light and flecks of gold danced with the question that still lingered there.





	I'm Growing like the Quickening Hues

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! “I went to the Museum to get some inspiration and then I saw you staring at one of the paintings in awe and wow you just noticed me drawing you wow this is awkward” was the prompt for this. Big ups to [Caroline](http://stardustheartbeats.tumblr.com/) for sending it, reading it, and encouraging me always. <3

For much of Mikael’s life, he had seen things in black and white. Not literally, of course. But he grew up under the understanding that there was a right and a wrong, if something was not one thing, it was another. There wasn’t much mixing happening in his education whether that was the fault of the education system, or his family, he’ll never really know. He thinks it’s a combination of both, but who is he to say.

It was just very cut and dry. And growing up, he didn’t really understand why. In their house, you either took music classes, or played football. You never did both.

Which caused a lot of tension between his mother and him.

As a kid, he always wanted to do both. He wanted to learn how to do a backflip to score a goal, but he also really wanted to learn to play piano.

So as he grew, he sort of started doing both things in private. He tinkered away on their old piano at home, but anytime he hung out with his friends, he asked them to teach him to play football.

So his family saw one side of him, and his friends saw the other.

But when he got into high school and had to pick a tract to study, it was hard. He had started getting interested in technology--always fiddling with the VCR or DVD player, messing with computers and cameras--and his parents encouraged him, assured him that it would be a very practical thing to study. Something he could make a career out of.

But when Mikael wasn't fiddling around with his cameras, he was drawing. He'd take pictures during the day--of sunsets, of people, of architecture--and he'd come home and draw them.

And it was hard for Mikael, who loved to draw so much, who loved capturing these moments on film and capturing them in an entirely different way on paper or canvas. He loved it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to make a career out of it. He had some skill, sure, but he wasn't going to be the next Edvard Munch, that was for sure.

So he ended up choosing technical studies. Because he really did love it. He loved figuring out the science behind everything. He loved learning how to code, knowing that all those sequences of letters, numbers, and symbols were the reasons we could see things on our phones and laptops. He loved taking apart old cameras, seeing how they first operated, comparing and contrasting them to how they are now. Hell, he even loved taking apart cars and other automobiles, learning how they operated and how he could fix them.

He really did like what he chose to study, he'll never deny that. But he didn't understand why he couldn't have done both.

He didn't love that the only time his hands got dirty was when he was working on cars, and he hated that it never seemed to fully get clean, no matter how hard he scrubbed. And he didn't even love cars that much, it was just that he really liked working with his hands, and that was the most effective way of doing that.

In truth, he really wanted to make art. It didn't even matter what kind since he loved it all. He managed to slip a few art classes into his schedule at university, and it gave him hope. Made him think that maybe if he couldn't combine his passions, then he'd at least get some private joy in doing it for himself.

He really loved throwing pots on the wheel in pottery classes. He loved getting oil paints smeared on his hands. Loved the bits of charcoal that rubbed off on his nose and forehead when he got too into a drawing and scratched himself before he realized what he was doing.

His big dream, really, was to be able to strike out on his own, combine all of his passions into one. Make big installations with technology and art all combined. To show the world that not everything needed to be kept so separate.

And he knew that the world didn't really think in black and white as strongly as he once thought it did. He knew there were a lot more grey areas now than there was even when he was a kid. But he couldn't help shake the voice in his head that told him he needed to separate these interests with a solid line.

But Mikael liked the grey area. He felt amorphous in that sense. In that space, he felt like he could be whoever he wanted to be truly was. He didn't have to hide anything from anyone. He could just exist.

Maybe one day he would get there. Maybe he could afford to move out of his parents house, and he could get a place with a spare room and large windows that he could use as a studio of sorts. With blackout curtains so he could develop film if he really wanted to. Maybe one day when he was rich and old and could finally do what he wanted to. Maybe he could be brave enough.

But today, he was not so brave.

In fact, he was acting a bit cowardly today.

The truth of the matter was, his dad had started asking a few too many questions about his life. When he was going to get a real job instead of working at the phone repair store. When he was going to get a girlfriend and marry her and give him grandchildren. And it just seemed like question after question was a direct attack on Mikael. Everything his dad asked was in complete opposition of what Mikael really wanted to do.

So he did what he usually did in situations like that. Said that Elias had asked for his help fixing his video camera and left.

He didn't actually go to Elias's though. He actually hadn't talked to Elias alone in a couple of days. Texts in the group chat, sure. But he'd kind of been avoiding his friends. Not in a bad way, necessarily. More of a need to be completely alone than a desire to not be around them, if that made any sense. He wasn't even sure he understood it himself. Because he knew that he probably should talk to his friends about how miserable he was. But he just...didn't want to yet.

So he escaped to his favorite place in the city to avoid people and find some peace.

He had bought a membership at the National Gallery a few years ago, with what little money he had, so he had the privilege of being able to enter for free. By now the ladies at the front desk knew him, and greeted him with smiled as he nodded his way in.

It was his favorite time of day to go too. Tuesdays, around 4 pm were never particularly busy, especially in the springtime, when people seemed to take any opportunity to be outdoors.

Mikael loved it that way. It felt like he had the place to himself. He could wander at his own pace, lingering at his favorites, continuing trying to make sense what elements made one piece so good and what made other just sort of fall short for him. He wandered through the floors, looking at ancient art, flowing all the way down to present day.

He loved being able to see all the famous Norwegians who came before him. He wondered idly what it would be like to be displayed among these people, what it would be like for kids to learn his name in school. He knew it wouldn't happen. And he was fine with that. But wouldn't it be cool if he did?

He settled himself on the bench in the middle of the contemporary art floor. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but he'd done it enough times that he knew how to position himself so he didn't get a backache.

He lay there for a while, knees bent up on the couch, eyes trained on the walls, admiring from a slightly different angle. He wanted to draw, to clear his head, do something that he finally felt was productive, even if it didn't seem like it to his parents. He wasn't feeling particularly inspired today, but maybe hanging upside down in the museum would be helpful. If anything, the blood would rush to his head and when he sat up he would be dizzy enough to make art out of the darkness that would briefly cloud his eyes.

It didn't quite work though. He kept seeing the modern pieces which involved flashing tvs, buzzing wires, and the like, and he kept being brought back to his conversation with his dad.

He sighed and flung himself back up, ignoring the vertigo and shouldering his bag. He nodded quick to Aleks, the security guard on duty, and made his way upstairs.

He didn't know where he was heading exactly, but he ended up in the impressionist floor. This floor always calmed him down. The dark blue walls, the white ceilings, and the beech floors made everything feel at once oppressive and open--exactly what Mikael loved.

He pulled out his sketchpad and his box of pencils, graphite, and charcoal, and he just started drawing.

He marked up the whole page with doodles and scribbles, and absolutely hated it.

He tore it out and tried again on the next page, but he hated that too.

Again and again and again he tried to draw but everything seemed so completely hopeless that he just ended up with dirty hands and a mess of worthless papers littering the ground in front of him. He scrubbed a hand over his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to clear his head.

He was about to completely give up and just enjoy sitting there in the room, when a boy walked in.

Now Mikael sat completely still because, even though the museum was a public space, he didn't want to do anything to disturb this boy's time in here. Mikael knew how special it felt to be in a quiet museum with just the art and the buzz of air conditioning, and he wanted this boy to have that too.

He didn't seem to notice Mikael though. He had headphones in, and Mikael longed to know what soundtrack he chose to accompany his visit. He wore a flannel and his dark curly hair was sticking up at odd angles. A maroon beanie was clutched in his hands and Mikael smirked wondering what exactly compelled the boy to take it off.

Mikael watched for a bit as the boy stopped at the first few paintings. He took his time. He would stand close, seeing the mess of brush strokes, then he'd take three steps back and take in the entire scene, then step in close again to admire the craft.

Mikael couldn't help but smile at the technique of viewing the art. It wasn't too unlike his own. But the boy's dark brow remained furrowed the whole time, as if he was trying to make sense of what was in front of him.

Quietly, Mikael picked up his pencil. He didn't have a great view of his face, as the boy's back was mostly to him, but had to capture him. He was beautiful. He seemed to think he was completely alone, and Mikael wanted to savor the moment--seeing how the boy behaved when he thought no one was watching.

He started with the curls, erratic and voluminous in spots, flattened and falling in others. Even from a distance, Mikael could tell it was nice hair, and he wanted to touch it. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked, and he wondered if he could capture that softness in graphite.

He worked on the boy's brows next. He couldn't see them anymore, but he was certain he'd never forget them. They were dark and took up a quarter of his forehead. He drew the line that ran down between his brows, deliciously concentrated.

The boy turned slowly, still unaware of his surroundings, and looked at the art on the pillars in the center of the room. Mikael restrained a gasp because the boy was even more beautiful up close.

He watched his eyes roam over a painting, bright and beautiful underneath the gentle gallery lighting.

The boy's mouth curled up a bit in pleasure at whatever the painting was, and Mikael felt his mouth mirror it.

He looked down quickly, before the boy became aware that MIkael was not only there, but that he was watching him. But he continued to sketch.

It was rough, definitely not Mikael's best work. But he wanted to get the basis of the features down now. He could fill in the details later--he wasn't going to forget that face anytime soon.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He had gotten so focused on drawing this boy that he hardly looked up at him again. Only once, to see his back turn around and look at the paintings on the wall behind Mikael.

He was filling in the boys eyelashes, lush and thick like his eyebrows when he heard a voice in front of him.

"Are you an artist?"

Mikael startled at the sound and he looked up to see the boy standing in front of him, holding one of the discarded pages from Mikael's sketchbook.

"Uhh..." Mikael opened and closed his mouth, trying to form words, trying to do anything but stare at the beautiful boy in front of him.

"You're really good," the boy said, picking up another piece. "Why'd you throw these on the ground?"

"Uh, because I think they're kind of crap?" Mikael said. And shit, did the first words out of his mouth have to sound so insulting to the beautiful boy who said he was good at drawing?

"Really?" The boy said, genuinely sounding surprised. "I think these are great. I like how erratic they are. How they're all really different but there's something cohesive about it."

"You really think so?" Mikael asked. "I was really frustrated and just drawing randomly. I didn't think there was anything to get out of that."

The boy laughed and, _oh god_ what a beautiful sound. "Isn't that kind of how all art is?"

Mikael blinked up at him, "Yeah, I guess you're right?"

"They're really good though," the boy shrugged, leaning forward to put the pages on the bench next to Mikael. "What are you working on now?"

"Nothing!" Mikael said quickly. The boy reeled back a little in shock at Mikael's reaction. "Sorry it's just...it's equally unimpressive as the stuff I threw on the ground."

The boy cocked an eyebrow, "Somehow I doubt that."

"Why?" Mikael asked, wide eyed, clutching the still open notebook to his chest to shield the portrait from the boy's eyes.

“Two reasons: One, I said I liked the piece you threw on the ground, so I would probably think that it was impressive anyway. Two, you looked like you were getting really into whatever it was."

"I did?" Mikael asked, flushing in embarrassment.

The boy nodded. "It was kind of incredible really. I may have stopped looking at the paintings for a few minutes and just watched you instead because you looked so passionate."

"Seriously?" Mikael asked, voice echoing in the quiet room. The boy nodded again, a shy smile stretching across his face. Mikael groaned, "Oh my god that is so embarrassing."

The boy's face morphed into confusion. "What? Why?"

"Because," Mikael whined. "Well..."

"What were you drawing porn or something?"

"What?!" Mikael asked. He shook his head. "Oh my god, no. No no no no no."

The boy laughed and said, "Well then what could be embarrassing about being so passionate about whatever you were drawing?"

He looked genuinely confused, and Mikael wanted him to understand, but also didn't want to ever have to risk the boy finding out that a weird stranger finally felt inspired for the first time in weeks thanks to his face.

"Because...well..." Mikael stammered, wracking his brain for an excuse, any excuse at all. The boy’s face looked so kind and curious that in the end, he sighed.

He dropped the sketchbook down on the pile of discarded papers and put his face in his hands, hoping that the boy would just leave and not saying anything that would make this moment more embarrassing than it already was.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the boy and he willed himself to disappear. But it was silent after that. The boy didn't say anything, but Mikael also didn't hear any retreating footsteps, soe dared to take a peek out of his fingers and through the curtain of his hair.

The boy's face opened more than it had in front of the paintings. His mouth dropped open a bit, and his eyes took in the rough details. He licked his lips and said, "You drew me?"

"Yeah?" Mikael said quietly, removing his hands from his face and looking up at the boy.

Maybe he didn't think it was creepy after all.

"And this is what you think I look like?" he asked, pointing at the sketchbook.

Whatever hope Mikael had was fleeting and he shrunk into himself. "Yes?" he said quietly.

The boy laughed, but it wasn't unkind. His mouth quirked up at the corners, "Do I really look that angry?"

"What?" Mikael asked. The boy stared at him with warm eyes. They didn't look hurt exactly, or even that confused. Just full of curiosity. "No no" Mikael shook his head. "You're not angry, you're concentrated. You stared at the paintings so intently, but your eyes were so bright. It was, such a striking contrast that...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

He moved to grab the sketchbook out of the boy's hands, but he moved it out of the way.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asked.

"Because I drew you without consent and you hate it?"

The boy laughed, "I don't hate it, are you crazy?"

"You...you don't?" Mikael said.

"No," the boy shook his head. "I think this is incredible."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said sitting down next to Mikael. "No one has ever drawn me before. I guess I didn't realize that this is how I look to a stranger."

Mikael stared at him in wonder. He was close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off his body, smell soap on his skin and a slight tinge of sweat. He could see all the details of his hair and it looked even softer up close. Finally, the boy looked up from the sketchbook and into Mikael's eyes.

"I'm sorry I made you look like you were angry," he said shrinking back and looking down at the sketchbook. "You just looked so comfortable and like you thought you were alone, and I...I don't get to capture that a lot."

"Why not?"

"Well when people are in public spaces, like museums or parks, they hardly ever think they're alone. You always have this sort of consciousness that you might be watched, or someone might glimpse you doing something strange. So you put your guard up. And when you get people to a space they'd be comfortable alone, they'd know that you were there. So it doesn't actually work at all."

"That's really beautiful."

"Thanks. So, that's part of why I started drawing you," Mikael admitted.

"Only part of the reason?" the boy asked nudging him with his shoulder.

"I...um...thought you were really handsome too. So that may have...played a part."

"Seriously?" the boy asked.

"Yeah," Mikael said shortly, avoiding his eyes and starting to pack up his things.

"Thank god," the boy said.

And--wait, what?

Mikael stilled from where he was putting his pencils back in their tin. "Thank god?"

"Yeah," he laughed. He scratched his eyebrow as Mikael stared at him, waiting for him to explain himself. "I used to see you at the university a lot, and I always thought you were really cute. And then I didn't see you at all this year, and I got sad thinking I'd never see that cute boy who always has a camera with him. But then I saw you here a few weeks ago and I got hopeful that I might run into you again. I didn't exactly think it would happen like this though."

"I graduated," Mikael said dumbly.

The boy laughed again, nodding, "I thought that might have been the case. Anyway, I've been back a few times since I saw you, hoping I would run into you. Obviously that didn't happen. But in the meantime I've gained a new appreciation for Norwegian art." He looked up and surveyed the room. Mikael couldn't keep his eyes off him.

"You really saw me at uni?"

The boy nodded, "You make an impression."

Mikael laughed, unable to believe what he just heard.

"I'm Jonas by the way," he said, sticking out his hand.

"Mikael," he said, fitting his cold fingers into Jonas's warm ones.

"Can I keep this?" he asked holding up the drawing.

"You really want it?" Mikael asked.

"Yeah," he nodded enthusiastically. "I want to remember this."

Mikael laughed and nodded, taking the sketchbook out of his hands to gently tear out the page.

"Thank you," Jonas said when Mikael handed him the page.

"Sure thing," Mikael nodded.

Jonas stood up as Mikael continued to put his things in his bag.

"You know," Jonas started, "I was thinking about getting a kebab after this. Care to join me?"

Mikael looked up at Jonas and saw the boy's eyes bright and inviting. He stood up, hitched his bag over his shoulder and laced his fingers through Jonas's free hand.

"It's a date."

\---

"You know i've never actually been on a date before?" Mikael told Jonas as they sat over their makeshift picnic.

The other boy just looked at him for an inexplicably long amount of time. So long, in fact, that Mikael was almost uncomfortable under his gaze. His eyes weren't judgmental, exactly. Mostly confused. Jonas opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, quickly opening it again, only to close it once more. He blinked a lot and shook his head and Mikael couldn't figure out what was going through his head.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?" Mikael said hunching his shoulders shrinking a bit away from Jonas.

"Sorry," Jonas said shaking his head again, snapping out of his reverie. "It's just...You've never been on a date?"

"Is it really that odd?" Mikael asked. He was starting to think he shouldn't have said anything.

"No no, not at all," Jonas said quickly. "It's perfectly valid. I'm just wondering how someone with a face like yours could have gone nearly 24 years without being asked out on a date."

"Shut up," Mikael said tossing a fry at Jonas. The other boy laughed and a grin split his face.

"I'm serious!" Jonas said. "You're one of the prettiest people I've ever seen. There is no way you've never been on a date. I refuse to believe it."

"Well believe it buddy," Mikael said planting his hands on his hips dramatically. Jonas laughed at his pose and Mikael relaxed into the ease he already felt with Jonas. It was hard to believe he had met him only a couple hours before.

"How is that possible?" Jonas said, staring at him with complete disbelief. It was a lot to handle, Jonas's gaze. But he liked it. He didn't think he would ever like something like this.

Mikael shrugged and laying back in the grass, "No one's ever caught my interest before."

Jonas was quiet for a moment and Mikael had another moment of Oh Shit wonderment. He covered his eyes, hoping he didn't say too much too soon.

"Did I," Jonas said tentatively, "Catch your interest?"

Mikael dared to peek out at him. His beanie was back on his head, and his legs were tucked into his chest, arms wrapped around them like he was trying to protect himself from the chill that started to settle in the air in the slowly fading sun.

Jonas was looking at the sky, the ground, the trees, anywhere but Mikael.

And Mikael felt something soften in his chest. Some pang of comfort that this boy, this beautiful boy he happened to stumble upon, was unsure. He thought back to the words Jonas had said in the museum. "I had seen you on campus" and "I got hopeful I might run into you again." He had come back to the museum after he saw Mikael. He had been looking at Mikael while Mikael was locked in his own thoughts. Of course he was curious. Of course he wanted to know if Mikael could like him back.

And Mikael, for the first time in his life, could be honest without feeling guilty about it. He could tell the truth without wishing it were different--without wishing he were different.

Because Mikael lived in that grey area. That place of unknown. That place of both.

And the truth was, he wasn't sure what he felt. He wasn't sure if he was interested in girls because he could never latch on to his friends conversation about them with any sort of tenacity. So that left him wondering if he liked boys instead. But even then, he wasn’t sure. It was easier to look at boys. But it didn't quite feel the way Even would describe looking at the tall nameless blonde who who gave meaning to Tuesdays when he came into KB.

So Mikael thought and thought and wondered if maybe he just didn't feel any of it. Maybe this grey area wasn't both like so many other parts of his life. Maybe this was neither. And the more he thought about it, the more he accepted that this space--the space he occupied so much of his time--was a space of nothing. Filled with dreams he'd likely never achieve, filled with attraction he would never feel, filled with all the things that seemed an impossibility. Maybe that was why Mikael liked the grey area so much.

Mikael must have been silent for long enough that Jonas was afraid he'd disappeared, or gone deaf, or had simply fallen asleep under the orange spring sun. His hazel eyes caught the light and flecks of gold danced with the question that still lingered there.

Mikael looked at him, and felt a brightness in his chest he's not sure he's felt before. He nodded.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I think you have."

And Jonas when smiled at him, Mikael felt something unlatch in his chest. He tucked his face into the crook of his elbow, and Mikael couldn't help but chuckle at the blush he could see creeping up Jonas’s neck. He reached out, inching his foot silently across the grass until he felt his toe hit the toe of Jonas's shoe. Jonas looked up at him, a shy smile curving the right corner of his lip. Mikael felt a flush run through his body and he bit his lip, trying to stop his smile from seeming too eager.

They stared at each other for a long while, until Jonas laughed gently at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. It did seem a bit silly to Mikael, like something out of one of Even's romantic comedies. But he couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from his chest, echoing Jonas's. And even though it was silly, he couldn't help but relish the pure, human magic of the moment.

To anyone else, they might look like two friends sitting in the park. But to them--two near strangers already sharing some unexpected form of intimacy--there was something rather special about it. So they lay there a little longer drinking in the cool evening air, the night brimming with possibility.

Jonas ended up walking him back to his tram stop, skateboard hanging from his left hand, his right skimming Mikael's knuckles with the soft backs of his own. They had held hands earlier, as they walked through the museum. But Mikael had dropped his hands as they made their way to the front desk, not wanting to draw the suspicious and unsubtle eyes of Sheila and Maureen. Jonas hadn't tried to hold his hand since then.

Part of Mikael was worried, afraid that he'd hurt Jonas's feelings. But the other part was hopeful. Maybe Jonas understood, without Mikael saying anything, that he was still trapped in the grey area, unsure of how to get out.

But now, their fingers danced around each other. Taking warmth, sharing cold, moving gently--barely there--and hitting just a little too hard when they misjudged their distance. They shared smiles and laughs, and talked about all the things you do when first getting to know someone.

Mikael had smiled and tapped his feet against Jonas's as he listened to him talk about being a political science major. Later, when they were walking and Mikael talked about his job, discontent seeped into his tone, and Jonas's fingers nearly intertwined with his, offering a strange and unexpected comfort.

Later at the tram stop they hung back a bit, away from the others.

"Can I see you again?" Jonas asked. His fingers, slightly calloused Mikael noticed, traced the outside of Mikael's pinky.

There was no preamble about it. No 'this was fun' or 'it was nice meeting you.' He was straightforward, direct, but in a way that was gentle, still a little shy. Like they were fourteen year olds trying to navigate the waters of first relationships.

Mikael liked it.

"Yeah you can," Mikael smiled. He put his number in Jonas's phone, along with a brown artist emoji because he wanted to be remembered for what this day was. Whatever their relationship ended up being, he wanted Jonas to remember their strange serendipitous meeting in the middle of a quiet floor in the national gallery.

Jonas laughed at the emoji, and pocketed his phone. He looked around--for his sake or Mikael's, he doesn't know--but when he made sure no one was paying attention, he laced his fingers through Mikael's.

He felt his heart stammer at the movement but didn't pull away. Jonas's eyes roamed over his face, flitting over his eyes to his lips to his hair to his lips to his eyes to his lips, back and forth until the finally just rested on Mikael's mouth.

He swallowed tightly, and Mikael wondered what it would feel like to press his lips against Jonas's. Would they be as soft as they looked? Would he feel explosions bursting behind him like Christian and Satine? Or would it be a soft comfort, like the kisses he gets on the forehead from his mother and his best friends? Or maybe it be something entirely different? Would it feel like skin against skin, or would there be something more to it?

To Mikael's surprise, he felt himself wanting. Really wanting. His eyes flitted back up to Jonas's before they moved down to his slightly parted lips. Slowly, infinitesimally he tilted his head toward Jonas's, nearly an invitation. Jonas swallowed and shuffled his feet a little closer to Mikael.

They jumped apart as the tram rattled up, bursting them out of the bubble they held themselves in since this afternoon.

"Um," Mikael said breathless, not-quite wanting to leave. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"

Jonas nodded, eyes slightly clouded but still smiling. Mikael licked his lips and nodded back at him, squeezing his hand tight before running to hop on the tram just before the doors closed.

He walked into his home to a flurry of questions and siblings, brushing them off, hugging the youngest ones, settling in to his room to relive each moment of the night. He got a text from an unknown number with a quick "You're kind of incredible you know that?" and he blushed before saving the number with a kebab emoji, before sending back "You too <3"

\---

The next few days passed in a rush of activity. Working, helping his mother with the kids, working on the latest video with the boys. All the while he texted with Jonas. He got good morning texts, and he sent goodnight ones. He learned dumb things about Jonas like what his favorite animal was and why blue was his favorite color. He learned he had a sister, and that his parents were still together. He told Jonas about his siblings, and his parents, talked about his friendship with the boys. The usual stuff. All the while conversations were mixed with "I miss you. Is that strange?" and "When can i see you again?" and "I miss you too" and "Soon."

Before he knew it, it was Friday night and he was leaving Elias's early to help his mother with something.

What that really meant though, was that he was going to meet Jonas. He didn't know exactly why he was keeping Jonas a secret from the boys. He knew they would be supportive. They've always been supportive of whatever grey areas Mikael has felt. But there's something exciting about keeping it a bit secret. Not because it was shameful or he was embarrassed. Though truth be told he wasn't sure how to navigate telling his parents if this turned out to be something more. But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it

No, he liked keeping it a secret because it seemed like they had built their own little world together. It seems crazy, Mikael knows, because they hardly know each other. It's been five days, in truth, but it feels like longer. It feels like Jonas has always been a part of his life. Like in the museum he had been drawing one of his friends, rather than a complete stranger. He didn't know how it worked exactly, and normally when things like that happened he wanted to figure out why. He did the same thing with technology when he didn't understand something--he worked on it until he did. And with art, he drew and drew and drew until some sort of meaning spilled across the pages.

But whatever this was with Jonas was unknown territory.

He knew that before he met Jonas, his life was one color, and he knew that after he told everyone about Jonas it would switch to the other. But for now he was content to live in the grey area. The unknown. The area of neither, of both, of all.

He tapped Jonas on the shoulder as he approached him and laughed as the boy looked in the wrong direction, spinning until he spotted Mikael grinning wide. He swiped at him with a crooked grin on his face, not a single bit displeased, and Mikael reveled in it.

"What are we doing?" he said, coming to stand in front of Jonas. Their toes touched and Mikael tipped his head down just barely to look Jonas in the eye.

"Well since you said you've never been on a date before," Jonas said, "I thought we could do a bit better than the kebab."

Mikael beamed, biting the inside of his cheek to restrain it just a bit. "Lead the way," he said. Jonas shook his head, laughing in fondness before walking through the park.

It was daylight still, so they made their way to Vigelandsparken, weaving in and out of naked sculptures, some in pain, some in pleasure, some downright scary. They walked along the river that passed through the park and paid too much for coffee at the cafe on site, not wanting to be bothered walking anywhere else.

"Have you been here before?" Jonas had asked when they arrived.

Mikael nodded. "It's kind of obligatory isn't it? If you like art?" Jonas's face fell a bit, but Mikael poked him in the side. "It's one of my favorite places in the city," he continued.

"Really?"

"Mhmm," he nodded slowly. "I don't come here often since it's kind of a hassle to get to. So I'm glad you brought me here."

"Me too," Jonas said, and his expression softened. Mikael felt his body soften with it. He felt so comfortable here, with Jonas, and it was entirely different from any sort of comfort he had found before.

They went to dinner at a quiet place, and Jonas insisted that he pay for all of it, even though the food was expensive and not as good as they thought it was going to be. They wandered brightly lit streets after that, aimlessly walking with seemingly no direction. Their hands still brushed, their arms, their sides. They stole glances at each other through eyelashes and behind trees, but nothing more.

They walked until it was late at night, most people either gone into their homes or into clubs and bars, leaving the streets fairly empty save for the few people waiting for trams, en route to somewhere else.

They made their way to the harbor, walked around, watched the lights reflecting on the water. The opera house lit up spectacularly in the night, its large windows revealing details of the inside even from a distance. They walked toward it, hands interlaced now.

They meandered across its front, looking out at the sculptures in the water. They climbed their way up to the rooftop, as high as it could take them, overlooking the city.

Mikael felt the cool sea air caress his cheeks and lift at the strands of his hair. He closed his eyes to the sensation, loving the feeling coupled with Jonas's hand held tightly in his, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the symphony below them.

"I'm so glad I'm finally here with you," Jonas murmured into the night.

Mikael looked at him. "Really?" he asked, his voice coming out much quieter than he intended.

Jonas nodded, looking at Mikael with such a tenderness in his eyes. He rubbed a strand of Mikael's hair between his thumb and forefinger before tucking it behind his ear. Mikael stilled at the sensation. Jonas's eyes flitted again to his lips, and Mikael felt that light tug against his chest, like a string pulling him closer, nearer to Jonas.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. His eyes fluttered as Jonas leaned in, and when he was centimeters away, he pulled back.

"Jonas," he said, and the face of beautiful boy across from him fell, and nearly broke his heart. He pulled back and looked at the ground, scuffing his feet on the rooftop.

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry, I--"

"No no no," Mikael said taking a step toward him. "It's not that."

"What is it then?" Jonas said eyes searching.

Mikael took a deep breath and steadied himself. He stepped back, turning away from Jonas, looking instead at the star dotted sky. Maybe it would be easier to say if he didn't have to look at him.

"Mikael are you okay?" he heard Jonas's gentle voice break the quiet night and his busy thoughts.

"I just...have never done this before." Mikael said.

"This?" Jonas asked confused.

Mikael let out a frustrated breath, shaking his hands at his sides to release some of the tension in his body.

"Kissed somebody," he said sitting down, voice hardly above a whisper.

"Never?" Jonas asked kind, searching.

Mikael shook his head and covered his face in his hands like he did that first day in the park, that day he said he'd never been on a date.

"Is that supposed to bother me?" Jonas asked.

"I thought it might," Mikael said, his words muffled by his hands.

Jonas laughed and the sound echoed through the night. He walked the few paces to where Mikael lay on the roof and he knelt beside him. "That would never have bothered me Mik."

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," Jonas said. His fingertips trailed along Mikael's bare arm, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. They were quiet for a while, Mikael staring at the sky, staring at Jonas. Jonas watching his fingers, watching Mikael.

"Jonas," he said after a few minutes of silence, nothing but the quiet symphony to occupy the air between them.

"Hmm?" Jonas murmured, still watching his hand trail over Mikael's arm.

"Kiss me," he said, voice a hoarse whisper.

Jonas's head snapped up at the sound and he looked deep into Mikael's eyes. Jonas's eyes shone even in the dark of the night, and Mikael couldn't help the sound that escaped his lips when he saw Jonas's mouth curl up in pleasure. He licked his lips and mirrored the smile. Slowly Jonas moved to hover over top of him, hands braced on either side of his head. He leaned down and placed a soft, tender kiss against Mikael's waiting lips.

He pulled back, caught the smile on Mikael's face, and dove in for another.

This time his hand moved to the back of Mikael's neck, thumb stretching over his jaw, fingers lacing in his hair. Mikael tugged on Jonas's shirt, and Jonas lifted him up, cupping both hands around his face.

He felt Jonas's smile as their lips pressed together over and over and over again. He felt Jonas's tongue pressing against his lips, and with a slight tug against his hair Mikael's mouth opened in a gasp.

They kissed and kissed and kissed until their lips were swollen, laying side by side on the rooftop and Jonas pointed out constellations with their intertwined hands. Mikael understood now, why his friends got so interested in kissing. But he was certain that there was nothing in the world that felt as good as kissing Jonas.

They kissed until it was well past time for both of them to go home.

They kissed for as long as they could, not willing to let go for longer than a second.

They kissed, and Mikael forgot there was anything around him besides Jonas, the stars, and the symphony.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [tumblr.](http://whenispeakicrossmyfingers.tumblr.com/)


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